


Bloody Demons

by aneurysmface



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Play, Knife Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneurysmface/pseuds/aneurysmface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer pays Crowley a visit and things get... messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Demons

Back before this whole apocalypse business, Crowley had been a nobody in Hell. It wasn't until the Winchesters wasted their second crossroads demon that he really got any sort of power. Lilith had run into him while he was working a tiny four-way on a dirt road in Kentucky.

She'd said she liked his style. Then she'd offered him a promotion. With Azazel dead, she was in charge of Hell and couldn't run the crossroads any more. Crowley took the job.

With Lilith dead, Crowley should have taken his rightful position as king of Hell then, but since Lilith's death meant Lucifer was out of the box, his plans had been side-tracked.

Lucifer comes to him almost immediately after he found his vessel and got the poor guy he was wearing to say “yes”.

“Crowley, I presume.”

Crowley jumps; he hadn't noticed Lucifer's arrival.

“My King.” Crowley starts to bow, but a hand stops him.

“That's so old-fashioned.” Crowley straightens at the off-hand remark.

“What can I do for you?”

“Nothing in particular, just thought I'd stop in to see how my Head of Crossroads was doing.” There's a glint in Lucifer's eyes that makes Crowley wary.

“As well as can be, given the decline in the number of deals being made in recent years.”

“Anything else going on? Anything I should know about?”

“Nothing at all.”

Lucifer smirks and snaps his fingers. The next thing Crowley knows, he's strapped to a pentagram naked and Lucifer has a knife.

Oh, no. This won't end well.

Lucifer steps forward.

“You needn't torture me,” Crowley says, “You, of all people, I wouldn't lie to.”

“Oh, I believe you now. It's later that I'm worried about.”

Lucifer presses the tip of the blade into the skin just below Crowley's chest. He hisses as the blade is drawn in intricate patterns across his flesh.

He's getting hard. Years of being tortured in Hell has messed up the way he processes pain; his body responds to it the way most people respond to gentle caressing.

He silently hopes that Lucifer won't notice, but then the angel leans in and whispers in Crowley's ear.

“You get off on this, don't you? You like the pain.” The blade digs in a little harsher. Crowley whimpers.

“Sick. Disgusting. Freakish.” Lucifer says, pulling back.

He finishes the design he was carving and runs a finger over skin that has already begun to scar. He presses just hard enough to hurt.

Another snap and Crowley is facing the opposite way, his back to Lucifer. He feils the cool metal of the knife on the skin just above his ass. He ruts up against the iron of the pentagram when Lucifer presses the blade into flesh.

He feels fingers swipe through the blood, gathering it. Then he feels a finger at his entrance and he groans. One finger, then two, the stretching is cursory at best.

Then Lucifer makes another slice, a deeper one. Crowley can feel Lucifer collecting the blood—his blood. Shortly after, he feels the blunt tip of Lucifer's cock press past the tight ring of muscle of his ass.

He starts to rub more determinedly against the metal in front of him, but a slap to his ass stops him. Lucifer continues to pound into him and carve into his back with the knife. Crowley is begging for release by the time a hand closes around his dick. It's warm and sticky and covered in his own blood, but that just makes it better.

Lucifer drags the blade down Crowley's back in a solid line down his spine as he leans forward and whispers, “Now,” into Crowley's ear.

Crowley comes, harder than he has in a good while, his vision going dark and he's only dimly aware of Lucifer finishing behind him.

He comes back to himself just in time to hear Lucifer say, “Much more interesting than my last fuck. But then, Michael always was a bit of a prude.”

Crowley doesn't process that tidbit until much later, but seconds after he says it, Lucifer is gone, leaving Crowley alone and bloody.

He whisks himself home for a bath and a glass of the strongest scotch he owns.


End file.
